The Lighthouse
The lighthouse sits on the promontory.
It guides the sailors through the turbid sea.
The creaking ship sails with all its glory.
The rusting motors groaning in a plea.
The lighthouse illuminates endlessly.
“Go towards the bright light!” the tough captain yells.
All of his cold crew chases it idly,
And then the sailors chime the ringing bells.
The lighthouse disguises its honest aim.
The radiant beacon of blinding hope
Lures them like a dumb moth into a flame,
Where all their frights and fears begin to slope.
Another family grieves in the night
As the ghostly sailors go towards the light.
